…mind talks…

nicotine

It is never a sin to carry the self away with the wind and go off to far-off places where you are able to construct castles of dreams. It is never even wrong – no, not once! – to let the wanderlust soul wander along the passages of conciousness.

As the spirit descends deeper and deeper down, and enshrouds itself amongst the visions and fantasies long forgotten, but still existing, albeit, it passes by projections of thoughts, feelings, and emotions. It crosses over mysterious lakes covered by mists, finally transcending in a dark cave that shields a wealthy treasure of the Past, Present, and Future.

Where actions and deeds unfathomable in reality are carried out at the freedom of the soul. Where fruits abound abundantly upon surfacing to awaken-ness concepts innovative to pending – or rather, bugging – issues.

Thus permit the soul to escape from the calcium cage as it pleases. Leave to explore… at its own will.

They say that writers are trapped, locked up in their own worlds. They say that artists are flying high in a different dimension, submerged in the incense of smoking opium and barbiturates. Is that really so I dare not claim.

However, I shall not deny that there is much truth in it. There is a characteristic of beauty in a mind left alone to wander about and linger on through the passages of conciousness.

One that is highly valued in a moment of solitude. No, we are not smokers of weed and nicotine, puffing wisps of fantasies into the crisp air. These are really periods of self-expression; of discovering oneself in a duty of such eloquence. Times where thoughts – our thoughts – are heard, at least to an eager audience. Times when we speak, hoping that the Outsiders take notice as we crawl out the Dream Tunnel, arms and legs outstretched like that of the spiders.

There shall be epochs where the world seems to crumble down in dusty ashes, only to arise from within a King so mighty.

We are the Dream Weavers, weaving ideas and connecting missing links together in hopes of patching up for a better world. We are the Sowers of the Seed, silently praying that the flower that blossoms out shall be blessed with showers of love, joy, and happiness.

There goes. Now what am I writing about?

Red Scarlet

PS: Anyway, it is about my birthday, it’s MY BIRTHDAY – so I got to spend my money. Taylor Swift needs to come up with a new hit titled Twenty-Three. =)